


It Works Out

by a_thirsty_queer



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 04:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17338847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_thirsty_queer/pseuds/a_thirsty_queer
Summary: Summary: Daryl’s the only one in your group that knows you’re trans. Things get complicated when that time of the month comes around.Warnings: Mentions of dysphoria, periods.





	It Works Out

Running from enemy survivors was hard, but it was harder when you had sharp pain through your lower abdomen and a mild fever. You turned around machete in hand, ready to strike, when you heard a something whistle past you and hit the guy chasing you right through his temple. Spinning around, you were met face-to-face with the notorious Daryl Dixon, his eyes gleaming through the grit and grime of his face. 

“What took you so long?” you teased. 

“Would’ve gotten here sooner if it weren’t for a small herd of walkers.”

You frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” He shot back.

Confused, you checked yourself for any possible causes to worry, and stopped right between your legs to see a small spot of blood forming. You could feel a cold wetness against your thighs. 

“Fuck fuck fuck!” feeling your heartbeat quicken and your breaths deepen, your anxiety comes out in full-on panic mode, and you’re afraid you’re going to draw attention to yourself. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Daryl placed his hands firmly on your shoulders as a way of grounding you. “I’ve got period shit in my pack.”

He pulled out some brightly colored plastic squares and cylinders, offering some to you. 

“I don’t got a change of pants or boxers, though. Sorry.”

“That’s fine, Daryl, thank you.”

Daryl was the only one in your group who knew you were FTM. He had caught you changing in the woods close to camp, before Rick even showed up, and saw your scars underneath your chest. He was honestly shocked, he didn’t entirely understand the whole concept at first, but after a few explanations, he became very accepting. 

You told him you didn’t want the rest of the group knowing, worried how their opinions of you might change afterward. Especially Merle. While close with Daryl, your relationship with his brother was another story. Then again, no one really liked Merle, and to an extent, Daryl. But it’s different now. The crossbow-slinging, bath-hating man was now a beloved member of your group and was valued significantly. 

He was someone you valued significantly.

You went behind a tree to more discreetly clean yourself up a bit, discarding the used plastic wrappers in your bag along with the unused products Daryl had given you. Stepping out from behind your hiding spot, you noticed Daryl had covered his eyes with one of his hands, probably assuming you were still fixing yourself up. You chuckled, and hearing your voice, he slowly moved one of his fingers away from his eye. 

“You all good?”

“I’m decent, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He removed his entire hand slowly from his face, almost as though he was afraid you were still naked from the waist down.

You hoisted your bag over your shoulder. Daryl followed suit, going back to the corpse and swiftly taking out his arrow, flicking any brain and blood off of the tip.

“I want to check out a clothing store if that’s okay. I don’t really want to go back to the prison looking like this.”

The brown-haired man nodded, strands of hair moving in his face as he did so.

You and Daryl made your way through the forest to a small town, the kind where there are rows and rows of cookie-cutter houses and nothing but strips of shopping plazas. Perfect for your needs. Entering a center called “Shady Oaks”, you both check the stores for any walkers that could be lurking in corners before entering a clothing store. 

Walking to the men’s section, weapon in hand, you quickly grabbed some jeans in your size, along with a pack of boxer briefs, and walked into the restroom. A mess of rotting teeth and flesh leaped at you, attempting to gnaw at your arm, which you quickly drew away as you sunk your machete into its skull. It became limp, and you let it slide off the blade and collapse onto the floor. You see Daryl in the corner of your eye, mouthing ‘are you okay?’ You respond with a thumbs up before entering the bathroom and finally changing your blood-stained pants.

You step out, flattening any wrinkles in the denim while approaching Daryl.

“How do I look?” You ask rhetorically, spinning around for a dramatic effect. 

“Your ass is looking pretty damn fine in those jeans.”

You could feel a warmth rising to your cheeks, but you brushed it aside.

You frown in mock disgust, pretending like his flirting wasn’t getting to you. “C’mon, Dixon. Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“Is it still considered flattery if I’m being honest?”

A large grin was plastered on his face. Oh. He was just messing with you. Your heart fell a little, but what did you expect? There was no way he was into guys at all, especially not you. 

“We should get going,” you stated as you walked past your rather burly companion. “I was thinking we should check out some of the other stores first, though. There might be food or supplies.”

Daryl doesn’t reply. Instead, he merely follows you out of the shop in silence.

A few hours have passed. A couple walkers down, some first aid kits, tins of fruit and meat, and some much-needed painkillers clatter around in your packs, and Daryl still hasn’t said a word to you. 

You cleared your throat to break through the silence before speaking.

“You good, man?”

He turned to look at you. 

“You haven’t talked in a while, is it something I said?”

He scoffed. “Rick was right, you really are oblivious as fuck.”

“Excuse me? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He walked closer to you, and you puffed out your chest in an almost sub-conscious show of confidence. 

“Why the hell do you think I came along with you today? You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.”

You thought about it. You did think it was odd initially, but you merely brushed it off as Rick’s insistence of security in numbers or something. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. 

“I’ll tell you why. Hell, I’ll show you why.”

He pulled you closer to him by grabbing onto your waist, both of your chests lightly grazing each other every time you took a breath. His eyes bore into you, and you could feel his hot breath on your lips. His lids slowly closed, face drawing nearer every second, closer with every beat of your heart until- 

A snapping of a twig. Daryl quickly pushed you away as he drew his crossbow, you mimicking his movements as you hold on to your machete. 

“Who’s there?” demanded Daryl, the commanding tone sending a shiver down your spine.

From behind a tree, a young boy stepped out and moved his sheriff’s hat out of his face. Carl. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, you lower your weapons. 

“Christ, kid! Don’t go around sneaking up on people like that!” You scolded.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Something told you if he hadn’t given away his hiding spot when he did, he’d be eavesdropping on something much more private. 

“What, Rick doesn’t tell you to mind your own damn business?” Daryl spat out. 

Carl raised his hands in a surrendering fashion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spy, honest!”

Before either of you could respond, the young teen made some excuse about returning to the inside of the prison and ran off. You chased after him, wanting to look out for him in case he got into trouble. Daryl followed your lead, but not before grabbing your arm and whispering in your ear. 

“We ain’t done yet. We’re finishing what we started once we get back.”

Your worries of periods had vanished entirely.


End file.
